


The Ties That Bind

by starlight_and_seafire



Series: Damerey Week 2019 [4]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Fluff and Angst, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 03:44:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21068291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlight_and_seafire/pseuds/starlight_and_seafire
Summary: In wartime, Leia ruminates on life, family, and the love that binds us together.In peacetime, Rey reflects on what that all means.





	The Ties That Bind

**Author's Note:**

> For Damerey Week Day 4: Memories, Mentor, Hairbrush
> 
> Warning: There is a reference to a character death we have not seen in the movies. In this story, Leia Organa dies off-screen, and this is briefly mentioned in Rey's section of this story.

Night has fallen, and the room is dim. The overhead light is off and a single solitary lamp shines on her small table while an otherworldly blue glimmers just off to her side.

“She’s strong. Stronger than anyone I’ve ever seen before,” she says thoughtfully as she works a hairbrush through her long hair.

“Not stronger than you.”

She smiles at the apparition’s reply. “I beg to differ, brother.”

“You would,” he laughs, not unkindly.

Her smile turns a shade more self-deprecating as she looks at him through the reflection of the mirror. She can’t deny that. But although there’s a part of her that wants to continue this line of conversation, hold on to the slightly playful air that tinged her brother’s statement, she knows there’s more important things to discuss, and she’s never been one to run when things turn serious.

She sets the hairbrush down on the table, runs a finger gently along the initials engraved on the silver handle. It’s older than her but the metal gleams. She glances back up into the mirror briefly, this time at her own reflection, before she meets the eyes of the figure behind her and sighs. “She’s stronger than me. She’s had to be, and I regret that every single day.”

The playful air dissipates from Luke. Suddenly his eyes appear far older, and she’s hit with the grief that she won’t actually ever get to see him age any further.

“There’s no way you could have known,” he says, a million regrets limning his voice.

“Shouldn’t I have though? Just because he managed to hide her from me doesn’t make her any less mine. She’s my _blood_. I’m her _mother_. I should have known.”

Something fizzes gently in the air and she sees a blue-hued hand reach out to her and hover just above her shoulder.

He’s just a fragment of the Force now, more essence than man. He can’t actually touch her.

She sees the regret in his eyes too.

“You’re there for her now. It’s all that can be done.” He pauses and she sees his eyes grow even sadder. “And I’m glad you’re there for her. I couldn’t be when she asked. I still regret that.”

“She forgives you,” she says, smiling ruefully. “I told you she’s stronger than all of us.”

He chuckles and nods. It seems he’s given up on disputing the issue for now. It’s the only proper course after all. They both know she’s right.

Luke looks thoughtfully into the distance for a long moment before chuckling once more. “She took down quite a few trees during training today.”

“She was angry. She had a right to be.” A slight grin tugs at the corner of her lips and she shrugs. “But it was quite an impressive display.”

“At one time that sort of power and anger would have scared me. But now I see it for what it is.”

“And what is that?”

Luke gazes into the distance and his eyes grow soft. At one time she thought that look would signify he was lost in some long-ago memory. Now she wonders if maybe he’s just looking at something that she can’t see. “Someone much smarter than me once said ‘_I don't turn toward the light because it means someday I'll 'win' some sort of cosmic game. I turn toward it because it is the light.’” And he stands a bit straighter, certainty in every line of his body as his eyes focus on the present once more. “_Rey will get angry sometimes. Just like we all do. The dark side is always there. She accepts that, acknowledges that. But no matter what, she’ll always turn toward the light. Not to win the game, but because it is the light.”

The certainty he possesses reassures her in ways not much else has recently. She struggles for words, finally settles on, “That’s not always the easiest thing to do.”

“You did it.”

“It runs through the matrilineal line,” she replies dryly.

Luke grins. “Clearly seems so.” He turns thoughtful again. “Despite — or maybe because — everything she’s been through, she’s strong. But still, I’m glad she has support now.”

“She has _family_ now,” she corrects gently. “And I don’t just mean biologically,” she continues, hazy but loving figures springing to her memory even as she sees silver gleaming from the corner of her eye. “Family is so much more than that. It’s those who love you and understand you and support you.”

“Still sounds like you’re describing yourself.”

She laughs. “Myself, yes. And Han,” she says, and when she says his name there’s a distinct feeling, something like agreement, not hers but something from and through the Force, and a smile curves her lips. “And you. But Finn was first. And now there’s Rose.” Then a twinkle appears in her eye, her smile tugging upwards even further. “And Poe.”

A wistful look appears on Luke’s face. “I was just thinking about his mother and the mission for the Force tree. I was right. The Force has a special place for that family.”

She chuckles. “He’ll deny it, but he’s more sensitive to the Force than he’d ever admit. It practically shines out of him.” She grins slyly. “You might say that’s another reason Rey turns toward the light.”

“Dear sister, that wordplay — you could do better.”

She just cackles before growing solemn once more. “The galaxy has asked too much from their generation, especially those two,” she whispers with regret. “I don’t know why the Force is requiring all this from them. It’s not fair. But I’m glad they’re leaning more and more on each other.”

“None of this has ever been fair. But we must do what we can,” Luke says, the color of his own regret matching hers. “My mistake was going it alone, especially at the end.”

“And she knows better. Both of them do. Both of them want so much to do the right thing, and maybe find a little bit of adventure along the way,” she says, echoes of a long-ago conversation playing in her mind once more. “They’re both forces of nature unto themselves.” She laughs. “Reminds me a little of Han and myself, actually.”

Luke chuckles. “I can see that.”

“But now? Now they’re learning they don’t have to go it alone. They try to hide their feelings, but it practically shines out of them both. I’m glad they have each other. And with Finn and Rose, too, together . . . together they’ll save the galaxy. They’re meant to. I know it.”

“Soon enough, that day will come,” he says, and there’s that look again. She wonders what he sees.

“Still too far away, though. Always too far away.” She rests her elbows on the table, shoulders sagging for just a moment. “I just wish that day would never have been needed, that this could have all been prevented. Instead, now they will have to carry the burdens of a galaxy on their shoulders.” And she knows they’re capable. That’s never been her fear. Poe has shown that he could be a great leader, stepping into her shoes to guide the Resistance to victory. She knows she won’t live to see that day; soon enough she’ll be luminous. It’s nothing she’s ever been afraid of. She only regrets it for those that are left behind, like Poe, like Rey — Rey, strong, capable, good-hearted Rey, who has shown a strength, both in character and in the Force, that leaves her proud and aching all at once. She doesn’t fear for them, knows they’re both the best of people and can handle whatever is thrown at them.

She just wishes they didn’t have to.

She has to swallow hard before she can speak again. “In the meantime, love can lend stability and reassurance. Love can help keep the darkness at bay.” She doesn’t say it. She doesn’t have to. They both know the darkness that comes to confront Rey and Poe in flashbacks and nightmares, too many of which her own son has provided to them.

“She’s found a family,” Luke says, quietly, confidently. It’s both a truth and a promise.

“She’s found a family.” Leia repeats, running her hand over that silver handle once more. She looks up and meets the familiar pair of eyes in the mirror once more before saying, “Goodnight, Luke.”

“Goodnight, Leia,” he says right before he winks out of the realm.

She tilts her face up and closes her eyes. “Goodnight, Han.”

She thinks she hears him say it back too.

***

Rey gently sets the hairbrush back down on the table in front of her, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye as she meets her reflection in the mirror.

She hasn’t had a memory hit her like this since she first touched her uncle’s — and her grandfather’s — lightsaber, when it first called to her hidden away in the depths of a castle on Takodana. There’s been other Force memories of a sort, but nothing with such strength, with such impact.

She sniffs as she comes to terms with the memory given to her and the feelings that remain behind. If she closes her eyes, she can just barely manage to sense her mother in the Force, all the love and wit and humor wrapped up in that petite woman, that singular force of nature.

They only had a short amount of time with each other. She doesn’t regret a single moment.

She runs a finger over the initials engraved in the silver handle, senses another, not quite as familiar, presence, the distance doing nothing to conceal the strength of character within.

She has a biography of Padme Amidala sitting on a table by her bed. It’s the only other thing she has connecting her to her grandmother other than her hairbrush.

Then again, she thinks to herself as a smile tilts her lips upward even as more tears spring to her eyes — for someone who spent so long without a family, Leia not only gave her the Resistance, a place to fight and live and grow alongside Finn, Rose, Chewie, BB-8, and Poe, but also gave her two strong, incredible grandmothers. It was more than she could have ever hoped for.

Her hand goes to her hair, caressing the strands that are gathered into three buns at the back of her head. She was too young to learn the intricate hairstyles that her mother and grandmothers wore when she was left behind. She still doesn’t remember anything before Jakku. But she wonders if there was something in her blood, some deep ingrained sense, that reminded her of her heritage, causing her young, clumsy fingers to try their best to replicate their hairstyles only to result in the three individual buns adorning her head.

A scavenger on Jakku doing anything at all to their hair other than the bare minimum was unheard of. But maybe this was her way of honoring her family, even if she couldn’t remember them.

There’s a familiar lightsaber tucked safely away in a drawer, but it’s this hairbrush that speaks to her of family.

Now, tears fall freely down her cheeks and she wipes them away with her hand.

Then she hears a soft, hurt noise from behind her and she glances in the mirror only to meet the warm brown eyes of her husband.

“What’s wrong, sunshine?” he asks, concern written on every inch of his face.

She turns and tries to smile through her tears as she steps forward until she’s within arm’s reach of Poe. “Just remembering my mother.”

Poe’s face softens in recognition. The war has only been over for a few years, and Leia has been gone for just a little longer than that. In many ways this sort of grief is still so novel for her; but for Poe, it’s familiar ground.

She gazes down at the little bundle he holds in his arms, their sweet baby daughter swathed in blankets, and lets herself feel all the love and affection and warmth that had once been denied to her in a desert on Jakku.

She realizes she’s still holding the hairbrush and brings her eyes up from her daughter to meet Poe’s. “Switch?” she asks, holding the hairbrush out to him.

He smiles, that sweet, private smile he reserves only for her, and nods.

Their bond was forged in love and passion and war, but now his hands are gentle and he’s sweet as ever as he sits behind her on the bed and brushes her hair as she cradles their baby in her arms.

It feels like peace. It feels like family and hope and the light.

It feels like home.

**Author's Note:**

> End Notes: I refer to material found in two of the canon novels in here, so I wanted to give them proper credit:
> 
> Claudia Gray, _Master & Apprentice_: “I don't turn toward the light because it means someday I'll 'win' some sort of cosmic game. I turn toward it because it is the light.” – Qui-Gon Jinn
> 
> Greg Rucka, _Before the Awakening_: (Leia talking to Poe when she recruits him to the Resistance)
> 
> “The need to do what’s right, and maybe find a little adventure along the way.” 
> 
> Poe shifted in his seat. 
> 
> “You remind me of my brother,” Leia said softly. “Fly like him, too, apparently.”
> 
> Poe looked at her, surprised and flattered at once.


End file.
